


Obligations

by gildedeggplant



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Caretaking, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedeggplant/pseuds/gildedeggplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt from longhairshortfuse: “Cecil gets a new tattoo and is worried about showing Carlos.” The resulting fic turned out kind of dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obligations

Carlos notices the mark while he’s peeling off Cecil’s socks in preparation for a foot rub.

It has been a long night of keening for the benefit of Station Management, and Cecil is just barely awake. He came in the door at 3am, threw down his fanny pack, and collapsed on the couch with a hoarse groan, sipping only fitfully at the water Carlos urged on him. Carlos wants desperately to make it better, so here he is, with a bottle of lavender lotion beside him and his boyfriend’s bare feet in his lap.

But this marking - tattoo? - has brought him up short. He has examined every gorgeous inch of this man’s body, and he’s never seen this thing before. It looks like some kind of rune.

He reaches out a tentative finger to touch it. Instantly his whole body thrums with a bizarre set of sense memories. The taste of strong, bitter coffee. The smell of ozone. And above it all, what he can only describe as the feeling of Cecil’s voice, as if his entire body is a tympanic membrane. He snatches away his hand.

Cecil stirs, lifting his head slightly to see what’s happening. “Darling Carlos, what are you…” Before he can finish the sentence, he takes in Carlos’s expression. “Oh. Shit.” He is instantly awake, sitting up and retracting his legs to tuck them underneath himself on the far side of the couch. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry.”

Carlos is paralyzed for a moment, caught between compassion and apprehension, but of course the the urge to comfort his boyfriend prevails. He scoots over and wraps an arm around Cecil, stroking his shoulders until the other man relaxes against him. He waits until he can hear Cecil’s breathing return to normal, then speaks. “That was… weird. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Yes. Fuck.” Cecil sighs, turning to curl up in Carlos’s lap. He hides his face against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I did this all wrong.”

Between the bizarre sensation and Cecil’s reaction, Carlos knows that he’s not going to be sleeping anytime soon. Still, he says, “We don’t have to talk about it tonight. You need rest, honey.”

“No, we really do. We should have talked about it before now. We should have talked about it before I got it. Ugh.”

“What is it? It can’t be that bad.” Carlos tries to infuse his voice with a peaceful optimism that he doesn’t feel.

Another sigh, and then Cecil starts to speak ( mostly addressing Carlos’s shirt). “Ok, well… here’s the thing. When a person dies in Night Vale, there are certain duties left to the living. Certain… rituals. There are two ways to designate the survivor responsible for these rituals. If the deceased has not expressed a preference, the duties fall to their closest surviving blood family member.” He falls silent.

“Or…?” Carlos prompts gently.

“Or you can have a special rune branded onto your body. It designates the person who will dispose of your remains and observe the bloodstone rituals, and it also obligates the person to attend the annual Homecoming game and greet your returning spirit each year.” Cecil mumbles the next bit all in a rush. “Mostly people wait until after they’ve been subjected to the proper marital bindings to take this step, but there was the whole thing with Lot 37, and I thought what if something happens, and it’s ok if you never want to marry me, but I don’t want anyone else to handle my death, and I know it’s selfish, and I’m sorry!”

Speechless, Carlos just rocks him and strokes his hair for several moments. He thinks of all the places he’s been. All the people he’s known. He thinks about large responsibilities and small ones, and he thinks about what it means to die in Night Vale. He thinks about belonging - to a place, and to a person. Finally he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cecil lifts his head. His cheeks are streaked with tears. “I didn’t want you to feel burdened. Which is stupid, I know, since I’ve given you the burden either way… but I didn’t want you to think that I was implying anything by it. That I don’t think that this - what we have - is enough.”

“Cecil. Honey. Cecil.” Between each word, Carlos flutters gentle kisses onto the damp eyelids and slightly red nose of his worried boyfriend. “I don’t know what to say. I’m honored that you would trust me with something like this..”

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m a little disappointed that you were afraid to tell me, but no, of course I’m not angry. Is there anything else I should know about it?”

“Well… yes. If I’m ever caught, somehow, hovering between the worlds, you’re the one who chooses whether I’ve earned my death. You’re the one who has to give it to me. The only one who can, now.”

Jesus. That one hits Carlos hard, but he files it away to think about later, and keeps his voice light. “Like a living will? Ok. I should probably change mine too.” He slides back over to the other side of the couch and runs his fingers over Cecil’s graceful feet, being careful to avoid the rune. “In the meantime, I owe you a foot rub.”

He is grateful when Cecil settles back into the pillows, his eyes fluttering shut and his brow smooth and untroubled once more. “Sweet, perfect Carlos,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” 


End file.
